


The World You Longed To See

by ForgingOurDestiny



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Gen, It gets quite gory, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Percival's past, So much angst, accidental angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24107896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgingOurDestiny/pseuds/ForgingOurDestiny
Summary: Okay, so maybe he felt a little bad about it, but he couldn’t help it. It’s not his fault that the druids just assumed that the only ones there that could hear their mind speak were other druids. Honestly, they should be more careful.Arthur's talks with the druids have just started, and Percival wishes that they would stop talking in his head. Percival POV because my soft tall boy needs some love too (especiaslly after what I put him through, whoops).
Relationships: Merlin & Percival (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin) & The Druids, Percival (Merlin) & Original Characters, Percival (Merlin) & The Druids, Percival (Merlin)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 141





	The World You Longed To See

**Author's Note:**

> So Percival grew up outside of Camelot so I think he would have a different opinion on magic to the majority of the people in Camelot.
> 
> This spawned because I wanted to do a Merlin magic reveal fic without Arthur being the one to discover it and this spawned.
> 
> Its so much angstier than I intended it to be, and I am so sorry for that. It was supposed to be a funny little oneshot where Percival and Merlin are like the Spiderman meme where they point at each other, but apparently I'm no good at that and angst is more deal... I hope you enjoy either way!

Okay, so maybe he felt a little bad about it, but he couldn’t help it. It’s not his fault that the druids just _assumed_ that the only ones there that could hear their mind speak were other druids. Honestly, they should be more careful.

Percival wasn’t intending to listen in, but they broadcast it so widely, not even trying to be secretive about it. He hadn’t grown up in Camelot, so magic wasn’t a huge concern of his. In fact, his village often took in magical refugees fleeing from persecution. No one had found it odd when a clan of druids decided to set up shop in the surrounding forest, as they knew no one would bother them. With so many people living with magic in his immediate area when he was growing up, he had learnt a thing or two. He could do some basic magic, like moving objects or heating up cold food, and he’d always had an extremely useful green thumb. That had all been par for the course growing up. Mind speak was something else.

If a child could communicate telepathically with another, then the druids typically took interest. It made their warning systems so much more effective and, once they learned how to put up their mental barriers, it meant that they could have private conversations without the fear of anyone listening in. It was safe to say that it was a gift that the druids valued highly.

Percival’s family had been approached when he was about 4 summers old. They had heard him complaining about how unfair it was that his sister got to play while he had to help out with the farm work. Apparently, he’d been broadcasting his thoughts, and rather loudly at that. This sparked their interest in him, and so they offered him a place with them, to learn as an apprentice. He’d declined, not wanting to leave his family, but as they had settled in the area, they gave him lessons about his gifts anyway. That was how he’d met his wife, Jana.

~*~

Jana was the granddaughter of one of the elders of the clan. She was beautiful, with long, flowing, fiery hair and piercing green eyes, freckles dusting her nose. She was taller than most, shorter than him, but that was no surprise. She was a year or two older than him and had taken a distinct dislike to him at first. He was an outsider, someone who she had been taught to fear and yet he was being accepted, taught aside her younger siblings as if he were one of them. Then she had been assigned as his mentor, and she got to know him.

Despite his present appearance, Percival was rather small and runty as a child, his muscle not yet built up by long days slaving away on a farm. He was little and she was bigger than him and he fell for her then and there. Jana was older and obviously that made her wiser, and always right. He’d wanted to be closer to her all the time, even if she didn’t like him. Over time, her barbs grew teasing, and she seemed to tolerate his company, even beginning to enjoy it. As he grew, so did she. They had some awkward moments, but everyone does. Her friends in her clan would tease her, and his friends in the village were relentless in taking the mick out of him, but neither minded too much. Afternoons that used to be spent playing in the river and chasing rabbits through the undergrowth turned into picnics in a clearing, talking about everything and nothing. The first time they kissed was the day after Samhain in Percival’s 17th year. He was unused to drinking and had indulged ever so slightly too much during the festivities. Jana had missed his presence and had gone to see him in the village, taking with her a remedy for what was sure to be a killer headache. She had seen him, lying pitifully on the floor, and felt her heart warm in fond exasperation and she was never sure what possessed her to do so, but she woke him with a kiss.

After that, it was clear to anyone who looked at them how they adored each other. They courted for two years (far longer than most, but the were in no rush) and, with summer in her prime, they married. There were celebrations for days, the village as well as the clan having their own celebrations. A fortnight after, Percival got his triskelion tattoo. It was small, hidden on the back of his left calf, just below his knee, and he couldn’t be prouder.

He and Jana moved into a hut on the edge of the village, near the forest so that they could see their clan and village friends as often as they liked. When they announced Jana’s pregnancy, they scarcely had any time to themselves.

Jana’s pregnancy was easy, something she thanked the gods for, and when their daughter, Aoife, was born, she couldn’t be prouder. She had her father’s soft hair and her mother’s eyes and smile. Aoife was loved by all she met and was a blessing Percival and Jana were grateful for.

They lived a simple life, Jana teaching magic tricks to village children and tending to their animals, Percival working hard on the fields and often being called on by surrounding villages when trees fell or bandits demanded possessions no one was able to give up.

When Aoife was 3 summers old, Jana fell pregnant again, this time bearing a son, Anson. With this new addition they felt their family was complete. They carried on living and working, with friends and family surrounding them. A month or two after Anson’s second natality, everything changed.

Percival had been at a near-by village, helping to clear the roads surrounding it when news of an attack on his village reached him. No one had the same story, some claiming the attackers to be raiders, others said that a group of power-hungry magic users, and even some stories of the Nords pillaging his village reached Percival’s ears but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was ensure that Jana, Anson, and Aoife were safe. So, he ran.

By the time he arrived, scarcely anything remained. All of the buildings were smoldering piles of ash, the crops burnt to a crisp, livestock slaughtered, their blood mingling with the spilled ale and water in the streets. The sight brought him up short and it took him a while to notice the bodies. There were druids and townsfolk alike, strewn across the place, arrows in some, and cruel gashes slicing across others. It was gruesome, a sight he knew would haunt him.

He walked through the carnage, making his way to his home, dreading what he would find. When he made it, he heard weeping coming form inside. He pushed open the door and froze in horror.

Jana was on the floor, blood pouring out of her stomach, as she cradled her children in her arms. They were both far paler than they should be, the colour lost from their rosy cheeks, their eyes missing that usual of spark of mischief he loved and loathed in equal amounts. They were limp in his wife’s grip, completely still.

Percival collapsed on the floor next to Jana, putting a hand to the wound on her stomach, trying to staunch the blood. She looked at him, pure agony in her eyes, something he was sure was reflected in his. She clutched at her husband, refusing to let go of her children, and they huddled on the floor. Jana curled into Percival’s warmth, into her safety. She curled around her children, trying to protect them, even though they were far past that. She gripped her love’s hand, pressed a kiss to his palm, and told him, _“I love you, and I will protect them until you can join us again. Until then, my light.”_ With that her life faded, and he was left alone. The piercing cry he let out speared the minds of those for miles around.

~*~

His ability to communicate telepathically had saved the lives of others multiple times. Since he had joined the ranks of Arthur’s knights and started going on patrols, whenever he heard others talking in such a way, he would send out warnings, telling them to leave or hide anything pertaining to the practice of magic. That had earned him many gifts that had been hard to explain away.

The talks Arthur had arranged with the druids were going well, and the side commentary the druids provided was amusing enough for him to remain focused on the conversation taking place. The elder they were talking to, Iseldir, seemed rather more passive than some other leaders he had met, deferring to the whims of the members of his clan he had brought with him. Percival thought that he looked rather composed for a man who was having suggestions bombarding him from left and right; the fact that he was carrying the conversation was an even more impressive feat.

Eventually, the talks came to an end with Arthur and Iseldir agreeing to meet again at a later date to go over the fine points of a treaty between Camelot and the druids as a whole. Finally, he could retreat to his bed.

As he turned away, he heard one last thing from Iseldir, _“Thank you, Emrys, for organising such an important meeting. We look forward to the future you will bring, and we are more than happy to offer our assistance.”_ Percival knew who Emrys was, of course he did. Jana’s favourite prophecy had been that of Emrys and the Once and Future King because of the hope it offered for the future. She had told it as a bedtime story to Aoife and Anson, who loved it just as much as their mother. However, learning about Emrys’ destiny and duties to magic and being told he was among them were two completely different things.

Before his blossoming hope threatened to consume his thoughts, a new voice sounded in his head, one that hadn’t participated thus far. _“Thank you for coming, I am glad we are making progress towards a united Albion at last.”_ Percival knew that voice, but he couldn’t be Emrys. That would be ridiculous. Obviously, Percival had misheard. He tried to force himself to believe that, but when Iseldir bowed and made eye contact with Merlin, there was little use denying it. Still, Percival needed rock hard proof before he believed properly.

_“Merlin?”_

_“Percival?”_

_“Well, this is going to complicate things.”_

He looked at Merlin, who’s mouth was perilously close to the floor. Suddenly all of those close shaves the knights seemed to always get out of made a certain amount of sense. It was then that he noticed Merlin had dropped his bag on the floor. Maybe a show of faith was all that was needed?

“A ardú.” Merlin’s bag hovered up and onto his shoulder. Percival turned away with a smile as the gold faded from his eyes and he thought to himself, _“He’s here, Jana, and I shall do all I can to help him achieve the world you longed to see. I promise.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I made myself upset writing this, but I had to get this idea out in the open. The spell Percival uses is Gaelic for "to lift". The names of Percival's family are pronounced:  
> Aoife - Ee-fa  
> Jana - Yah-na  
> Anson - how it's spelt
> 
> Comments boost my confidence and make me smile so much when I read them, so if you enjoyed, let me know!
> 
> Thank you again for reading! TTFN, ta ta for now!


End file.
